Is it possible to deliver a great ending to a mediocre novel? I've read enough crap ends to say no, but Peter Carey's Theft produces the surprise. No tears, but the gurgle of two. A week's slog gets a Saturday afternoon reward and with daughter in lap, I'll take it. No Oscar and Lucinda, but what is? Now if I can just get my head around lunch with a former college tennis roommate whom I haven't seen in 23 years and who drank two Trumer Pils while telling me the story of his life and the sketches of those I haven't thought about in just as many years I'll have another tear or two. All those lives- most going, some broken, others recovering, and several over. What are 23 years compared to the richness of living when you're young ? How easy to pick it up, and how bittersweet- those years are gone forever. Hope you're holding somebody worth holding.